The Admirer
by onedamnloyalfan
Summary: Cobb returns to Paris only to find Ariadne is in need of assistance. A secret santa gift for rei17 at architectsgifts on LJ.


**The Admirer**

When he returns to Paris months later, Cobb tells himself it's because Miles wants him to meet with the dean about a possible teaching position. And he's late, fuck. Cobb picks up his pace, the faces of strangers blurring in the busy morning rush.

Cobb's too preoccupied with this renewed separation anxiety, even if it is only for three days, that the déjà vu hits him hard and unexpectedly.

He's found his way on this damned bridge again. He remembers not the beautiful, vibrant wife he's shared a life time with, but instead, a nosy, brilliant woman he knew for but a few short months. Cobb recalls watching with envy as she learned to control the dream world between her fingers in minutes instead of the hours it took him to grasp.

The memory sets him back a few minutes more. Not that he minds.

* * *

"He won't ever call, will he?" She hates how pathetic her life has become. She's all ready driven Arthur so crazy, he's passed her onto Eames.

"He's making up for missed time with his children," Eames replies automatically, not bothering to hide the boredom in his voice. "He's distracted is all," he drawls. "Don't take it to heart. Once he gets that stick out of his ass, he'll come around. It might take a while longer though, that stick is mighty big." This isn't the first time Ariadne has called him with the pretence of asking how life was where ever it was Forgers went on vacation. A warm climate with lax laws, Ariadne supposes.

"He called Arthur two days ago," the indignant nature of her voice fails to cover her disappointment.

"You know, I've always suspected something more between the two of them... I bet he even picks out his suits. There's no way a man with two brats can dress that well."

"Not funny, Eames."

"It's a little funny," he states defensively. "Look love, why don't you pick up the phone and call him? This isn't the 19th century. Women can be the aggressors these days. Better yet, I could fly right over and give you some concrete pointers. But make sure you wear those knickers I like."

"You are incorrigible." The smile in her voice is unmistakeable. Eames succeeds again.

"Don't you forget it, darling. Now about that visit..."

* * *

When he catches himself unconsciously scanning the hallways for a petite, dark haired girl wearing colourful scarf, he thinks it's only natural to be on the lookout for a familiar face. After all, she is a former member of the team. No, more than that. A friend. Except friendships don't usually end as abruptly as theirs did; as if it were more a temporary friendship of necessity than a true one.

Still, he wonders what Ariadne would demand he do if she knew his current circumstance. Would she tell him to stay and fight his way into a job or leave the country he'd once called his second home...

"Cobb."

He stops mid-turn and almost runs into a garbage can.

"What?" It comes out with more bite than necessary, his neck burning with embarrassment at being caught absent minded and with unexplained guilt.

"Have you been listening to a thing I've said?" Miles cries, tossing a hand into the air.

"About the dean basically telling me that there's no way he would have even invited me here if it weren't for you? Yeah, I was listening." He wasn't really.

"No, that's what _he_ was saying, not what I've been saying for the last two minutes! Cobb, if you want this opportunity to make a new life for yourself, if you truly want it, you need to be patient. It's understandable that the dean would be concerned about your lack of teaching experience. _Official _teaching experience," Miles is quick to add.

"Miles," Cobb begins, but is cut off by a group of young women, his attention bouncing from the head of one to the next. "He won't hire me. Hell, he won't even _consider _hiring me. Not today, not tomorrow, not five years from now. As much as I appreciate the strings you had to pull to get me this shot, it was a waste of time."

Miles doesn't reply at first, choosing to let the words soak in. It certainly didn't help Dom's case when he briskly waltzed into the dean's office fifteen minutes late, his usual calm, cool, and collected demeanour perfectly in place except for the totem that must have been digging into his palm.

"She's not here, Cobb."

This bold, out of place statement finally draws his attention from his search and onto the old man in front of him.

"What does she have to do with anything?" It comes out barely louder than a whisper.

"Oh, I don't know. You fly thousands of miles to get here for a job you aren't interested in..." Miles goads him on, "Are you curious to know how Ariadne is? Have you spoken to her recently?"

"I haven't spoken to her since-."

"Since inception," Miles finishes. He doesn't seem surprised and this annoys Cobb. Why ask a question he all ready knew the answer to? "Well, then. You should know that Tuesdays are her days off, so you won't likely find here wandering the halls. Rumour has it," he leans forward as if he was going to spill the secrets of a king, "Ariadne has quite the admirer."

Cobb nearly chokes on the revelation and fights to regain composure.

"Does she?" Cobb manages to spit out. "Like a stalker? Is it something you're worried about?" He tries to be nonchalant and almost succeeds.

"Why don't you ask her at lunch," Miles states matter-of-factly.

* * *

His stomach is in knots as they make their way to the cafe a few blocks from the campus. It's just Ariadne, he tells himself. Soon that becomes his mantra.

The vibrating sound of a cell phone goes off as they cross a busy intersection and Miles reaches into his pocket to check. He frowns as he reads his message.

"Something wrong? Are you... are you _texting_?"

"Ah, breaking stereotypes. My life's greatest work," his fingers move smoothly and efficiently across the keyboard, "Unfortunately, it looks like something just came up. Tell Ariadne I'm sorry will you?" He doesn't look the slightest bit apologetic.

"Can't it wait until after a quick lunch?" Despite his plea, Cobb all ready knows his decision is made. This reeks of a set up. "Damn it, Miles," he curses under his breath.

"Just a final word of advice?" And because he has a flair for dramatics, he waits for a response.

Cobb sighs. "Yes?"

"Don't mess this up."

* * *

Ariadne has gotten there first, choosing a seat with her back to entrance of the restaurant. Something he'd have to correct her on if she really did have a stalker to contend with. A smile makes its way to his lips as takes her in, pleased that at least from this distance, she seems unchanged. Her hair is unbound, bordering messy. Maybe this will be less awkward than he thinks.

"No. I won't do it. I'm just a fool," she speaks, softly into her cell phone, her other hand busy pulling and twisting at a wavy tendril of hair. "Why can't I move on?" Cobb's breathe catches in his throat at the wetness in her voice.

"Will you come visit next week? I miss you."

Cobb can't bear to listen to any more.

"That's no way to handle a stalker!"

Ariadne whips her head around so fast, it leaves her slightly dizzy. "Cobb?"

"Finally," mutters Eames on the other end of the line.

"What are you doing here? How did you know -?"

"That you have a stalker? Miles told me. Though now I'm thinking he probably should have told me sooner."

"No, how did you know that I was here, you doofus! What are you doing here? In this restaurant? In this country!"

"Long story. We can get to that later," Cobb has the look of murder on his face as he drags her from the cafe and around the corner. "Give me the phone, Ariadne." The tone of his voice makes her think of what Phillipa must hear when she's in trouble.

"No," she finds herself repeating, "He's not a stalker, for God's sake, Cobb." The sound of his name through her angry lips does things to him that it shouldn't, but he ignores the reaction and forces the issue.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"No!"

"Good," he's appeased for half a second, "Then you won't mind letting me speak to him." He makes a motion with his hand to fork it over.

"I'm a grown woman," Ariadne argues because she feels she must, but relents because she still can't comprehend that he's here in front of her after months and months of nothing.

"Listen. I'll make this nice and clear. I don't know who you the hell you are and I don't care, but don't call again. You want to talk to her, reach her through me, got it?"

She should not be turned on by this, cries a voice in Ariadne's head. It goes against the feminist part of her soul. She can almost see Eames grinning. "And he said we weren't living in the 19th century," she mutters.

"Cobb, Jesus fucking Christ. Point taken. You Tarzan, she Jane," he drawls.

"Eames? _You're_ her stalker?"

"I just figured after all this time, she was up for grabs," he deliberately prods.

"I don't have a stalker! Will you listen to me," she grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls Cobb towards her. "He visited once or twice and everyone got this idea that he was my boyfriend or something. The fact that Eames doesn't exactly fit into the typical college boyfriend mould just made the whole thing spread like wild fire."

"Ariadne, sweetheart, I'm hurt," Eames shouts calmly from the phone, "I'm going to miss seeing those knickers." Cobb's nose flares and at the response, Ariadne realizes they're almost nose to nose... if only he would bend down just a bit more... "-Cobb, tell Miles he owes me big time." And with a click, Eames is gone.

Cobb closes his eyes and Ariadne takes the chance to breathe. In and out, over and over. She's surrounded by the smell of soap and coffee and a muskiness that is Dom Cobb alone. Her heart refuses to stop racing, in fact, now that Eames is gone, its sped up even more.

"I've missed you so much," she whispers. In for a penny, in for a pound. "More than I should, you chauvinist jerk." She emphasizes this with a half-hearted punch to his chest.

"Have you? You could have called." The blue in his eyes melts her weeks of angst and pain. "I know I could have, too." There's an apology in his admission. Was it cowardice that had held him back? Perhaps it was a desire to give her time to get resettled... to forget him? He isn't sure why it's taken an interfering ex-father-in-law and a... he doesn't know quite how to categorize Eames... to give him the wakeup call he needed.

A thousand and one excuses and reasons run through her mind. She didn't want to disturb his new life. She didn't want to be a reminder of everything he had to go through to be with his children again. At the end of the day, though, she didn't know how to interpret everything they'd been through.

"I've never been good with the boy thing," she confesses, wincing at the horrific choice of words. The flush that spreads across her cheeks highlights tiny freckles on her skin. She's beautiful. He wonders how he's been able to ignore this fact for so long.

"I think Eames would argue that," he counters, his mind lingering on a key choice statement. She decides there's something to be said for the power of jealousy.

She shivers in spite of the wonderful warmth his body is giving off. "Don't believe half of what he says," she can't stop staring at him. He's here and he hasn't pushed her away, in fact, he's moved a hand to the small of her back while the other hand finds hers.

"I don't, and neither should you with Miles," and with that Cobb puts both of them out of their misery the best way he can.


End file.
